"I want to create a place where plus-size ladies can go and feel comfortable for not standing next to a size 2 who's looking at them like 'ugh,'" Newman says.

"There's discrimination against heavier girls."

Newman, a plus size herself, pays attention to detail in her business, down to the store's sturdy chairs. The Rose Closet is her retirement, but it's also a place where she makes friendships and shops for herself.

She wants to offer an antidote to what she calls "the fears of the heavy girl."

It must be working.

Newman has occupied the same storefront for 20 years. She doesn't advertise and has no website, but she's too booked to take appointments for new merchandise until next year.

For many of us, weight ebbs and flows like the tide. And, periodically, we're flooded.

"We were all little tiny things at one time," says Newman, 68. "I used to wear an 8 and, well, so did a lot of people. But now we're 12s and 14s and 18s ...

"When I was thin, I never thought I was thin. But I was. In my wedding photos you can see the bones."

Pretty consistently, though, at any size, we're often not satisfied.

"When you're a size 20, you want to be a 12."

Newman is no therapist, but she wears a size 2X and seems OK with it.

"We're never happy with our bodies. I want to set up a comfortable feeling for women who are heavy not to feel bad about their weight. They can come here and look at clothes in their size."

It's horrible to fall in love with a dress in a size 10, she adds, only to find that it doesn't come any larger.

That's not as common as it used to be. Designers have embraced the same opportunity Newman has found, and many now offer larger sizes. In her store, the rack of St. John Knits holds a place of pride.

Newman buys clothes from women who simply want to recycle their wardrobes. But others, including those who have had gastric surgery, no longer need clothes in their former size. She also sells clothes to women who have "temporarily" put on some weight.

"We all think: 'I'm gonna lose 10 pounds.'"

Well, I am. After the holidays.

When it comes to weight, we're like elevators – never quite stopped where we want to be.

Going up, though, isn't as much fun as coming down. I'm struggling to get back to the weight that years ago I never wanted to weigh again.

I think of the three sets of jeans in my closet: the ones I wore when I was skinny, the ones I wear, and the ones I hope to never wear again.

The Rose Closet is where you take those last jeans when you're sure you're not going to need them again.

Dianne Swanson has brought in a pile of sweaters and tops she no longer wants. She's been coming here for eight years to sell and shop.

"It's recycling in a way."

Swanson settles into a seat, and it's clear her visit is as much conversation as it is commerce.

Newman unpacks Swanson's holiday items, including a bearded Santa sewn on a red top. With the advent of "ugly Christmas sweater parties," these have enjoyed a renaissance. Last year, Newman sold out.

Swanson describes shopping at The Rose Closet as "a treasure hunt."

The store also sells shoes, purses, jewelry, housewares and knickknacks. One shelf has a collection of china teapots; on another is a porcelain rooster.

There are tchotchkes in this store, but it would be wrong to dismiss the contents too quickly. It's an unpretentious place to shop slowly.

I find a pair of clip-on earrings for $5. They fit my wallet and ears perfectly.

Newman is, of course, a businesswoman.

She has to dash the hopes of sellers with inflated expectations and resist negotiating with customers who want to haggle.

"I have a hard time telling people no, but you've got to remember this is a business. You've got to take what's going to sell."

Her reputation, she adds, is based on being honest and offering good prices.